Sticks and Stones may break your leg
by Rei6
Summary: Short and pointless Dean!whumpage - schmoopy and with added brotherly banter and worried!Sam. Dedicated to Cheryl W. Please enjoy.


**Sticks and Stones (may break your leg)  
**

Dedicated to the awesome **Cheryl_W**, one of my alltime favorite Spn-authors. If you like hurt!Dean you should totally check her out right now.

**Beta**: Sinnerforhire (who writes so much better than I ever could and she's still a really sweet person)

**Prompt: **Dean, Sam (gen) - Dean gets hurt and Sam has to carry him, much to Dean's dismay

**Warnings**: major schmoop, some Dean-whumpage, hurt/comfort and lots of brotherly banter. It's kind of pointless but I had so much fun writing it.

~*~

Everything hurt. That was the first thing he noticed (and wasn't that something new and fancy for a change?).

Dean blinked confusedly as his surroundings swam slowly into focus. He wondered how he ended up on the floor. Again.

Trying to get up proved to be a bad idea though.

"Oh shit." he groaned.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Or as Dad used to say, '_try and breathe through the pain_'. Which probably only worked with pregnant women since it didn't help with the white-hot pain shooting up his right ankle. _At all_.

Gingerly he leaned back again and pressed the back of his head against the ground floor. Dust and pieces of debris covered him and made him cough.

Shit. Shit.

Where was he? What had happened? And … wait. Where the hell was Sam?

Feeling his pulse spike up, he raised his head. "Sam? _Sammy!_"

Frantically he blinked and tried to see through clouds of dust, searching for the distinctive shape of his ridiculously tall brother.

A thoughtless move had him whimpering in pain and he squeezed his eyes shut, consciously taking shallow breaths. That wasn't good. Even without seeing it, he _knew_ his leg was seriously screwed up.

_Damnit__, Dean! Get a grip_, he thought angrily. He had to get up. Now! His brother might need him. Sam might be lost or hurt or in danger or …

"Dean?"

He snapped his eyes open. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his leg, he pushed himself to his elbows. "_Sam!_" Thank god. "Sammy! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. Dean, where are you?" He heard coughing from his left and simultaneously turned his head.

"Somewhere to your right. Be careful, Sam", he ordered anxiously. "I don't know …"_ … where I am. What happened._ "The ground doesn't feel too stable."

Sam's short laughter sounded tense. "Not too stable? The whole building is probably about to collapse. I _told_ you, it wasn't a good idea to …"Sam stopped in mid-sentence and one second later he lunged at his side.

"Dean! God! I thought …" Anxious hands roamed over Dean's head and his arms. Sam seemed dangerously close to hugging him. If his brother hadn't sounded so hysterical and worried, Dean would've pushed him aside.

"Sammy, stop it. I'm …" he tried to protest.

"Stay still! Where are you hurt?" Sam demanded.

"Relax. I'm fine." Except he wasn't and as soon as his brother accidentally jarred his lower body, Dean gasped in pain and felt his eyes water.

"Shit, sorry man. Don't move. Let me …" His brother gently lowered him back on the floor and Dean felt more then saw Sam shove something warm and soft beneath his head - probably his sweater.

"Your definition of 'fine' sucks, dude." Sam stated calmly.

"Yeah, well that's not the only thing that sucks."

Incredibly large and gentle hands framed his face and forced him to open his eyes. "Deep breaths", Sam suggested.

Dean threw him an incredulous look. "Thank you, Doctor Winchester, but I think I know how to breathe. I've been doing it for thirty years now. Unaided."

That at least got a smile out of Sam. "You think you got a concussion?" He checked his pupils, gingerly feeling around his head for bumps. "Do you feel dizzy or nauseous?"

"No." Almost against his will Dean felt himself relax in his brother's presence, felt part of his confusion and anxiousness bleed right out of his body at the gentle examinations. Not that he would ever admit it.

"Just dizzy", Sam murmured, sounding as if he was taking notes in a class.

"What? No, I'm not…"

Sam raised a smug eyebrow. "You're squinting"

"So?"

"You always squint when you're dizzy."

Dean hmpf'd. "Great. Why do you even bother to ask me?"

But Sam had already started to run his hands expertly over Deans chest and ribcage and ignored the jibe. "How are your ribs?"

"Crispy and well done. Pass me the ketchup." At his brother's worried look he added more seriously: "Doesn't feel like they're broken, I swear. They hurt like a bitch but I'm not bleeding to death on the inside if that's what you mean. It's … it's the right leg", he finally admitted. "Or foot. I'm not sure."

"I know", Sam said softly. "It looks broken."

"Oh. Great." Dean swallowed and tried to mentally prepare himself for bloody bones protruding through his skin and other not-so-funny news. "But it's still attached, right?" he joked lamely. "It's not … lying somewhere over there, right?"

He must've sounded more anxious than he had intended, because his brother's eyes softened and he felt a soft hand petting his head. "I'll take a look now, okay?"

"Okay." Dean nodded and gritted his teeth in anticipation of the pain.

"Do you remember what happened?" Sam asked in a conversational tone, while he turned his attention downwards. Dean, recognizing a diversion tactic when he saw one, licked his suddenly dry lips and tried to think.

"We … separated to search for the damn amulet", he said slowly. "I took the second floor."

"Right." Sam nodded. "And for the record? Separating _always_ gets one of us hurt. And it sucks. And I told you so."

"You know what? I actually _do_ remember you nagging and whining about it."

"No brain damage then. Even though it's always hard to tell with you."

"Funny, Sam. Hilarious. Make fun of the injured, why don't you."

Skilled fingers efficiently roamed over his leg. Dean held his breath and clenched his fists, trying not to whimper.

"The ankle is definitely broken. Feels like a clean break though. It's hard to tell with the jeans but there's no blood and I don't feel any splinters", Sam stated finally. And then: "Don't forget to breathe, Dean."

"'M not." He took a cautious shallow breath, feeling almost relived at the news. Broken bones sucked and hurt like a bitch but he clearly had had worse. Clean break. Hah. Piece of cake.

"The second floor collapsed, Dean. Right beneath your feet", Sam added quietly, even though Dean hadn't even asked. "You fell and I … I heard the noise, but I couldn't reach you in time. And it took me forever to find a way downstairs. There was so much rubble and broken furniture and I thought you might be …" He stopped.

Hearing his brother's distress, Dean automatically reached out for him, getting hold of his sleeve.

"Sammy … I'm all right. A little banged up but I'll live. There was nothing you could've done to prevent this." He made a vague gesture. "The interior of this place sucked big time anyway. Didn't we agree on that? It might even look better now than before …"

Sam made a small choked noise, dangerously close to a sob but he nodded nevertheless.

"Clean break or not, we're going to drive to the nearest hospital all the same", he said determinedly.

Dean sighed but nodded his head in agreement, realizing from the mulish set of Sam's jaw that his brother wasn't about to back down on the matter, no matter how much Dean would bitch and complain about it. "All right then. Help me up so we can …"

"No way."

"Yes way", Dean answered. "If you haven't noticed it already we're _here_ and the Impala is … somewhere down there. Since I doubt you'll be able to drive her upstairs, I don't think we've got much of a choice here."

Sam threw him a disbelieving look. "Are you stupid? You can't put any weight on that leg. And there's no way you're able to walk down the stairs."

"Sam …"

"Dean, no! You're only going to hurt yourself further. Forget it."

"Great. So what do you suggest? Sitting here until the rest of the house decides to collapse as well and we fall right on the Impala? Oh yeah. I shall be so lucky."

Sam shook his head, looking exasperated. "I _suggest_, you hold on tight and shut up."

"What? _What!_ Sam, what the hell …!"

Before he could put on a fight Sam had already slid his arms beneath his knees and back and Dean felt himself get picked up. "Oh, you've _got to_ be kidding … No! Sam, no! Don't you dare!"

He tried to struggle but the sudden change of position increased the dizziness and made him feel nauseous. Maybe he did have a concussion after all. Oh joy.

"Stay still or I'll let you fall." Carefully Sam adjusted his hold, trying not to jostle his injured brother any further.

"Sam, I mean it. Let me down!" Dean demanded, feeling mortified. This couldn't be happening. Of course he _knew_ Sam was a freaking _giant_ and he had watched his brother manhandle grown men without any difficulties often enough. But there was no way in freaking hell that he would let himself be carried downstairs like a damsel in distress.

"God, you're heavy. No more burgers for you." Deliberately Sam steered around the debris and the gaping holes in the ground.

Involuntarily Dean held on tight, gritting his teeth against the pain and unable to struggle because of his injuries. "Sam …" A small pained noise escaped his lips and he hastily bit his lips.

"Shit, I'm sorry." Sam slowed down. "I'm trying to be careful. It's just … we _need_ to get out here as fast as possible, before the rest of house decides to collapse on us too. And we need to get you to a hospital." He sounded torn and distressed and used his 'little-brother'-tone, which was all kinds of unfair.

On a rational level Dean knew he was right and there really was no faster way to get out of this house. That didn't make it easier though.

"Couldn't you've just … I don't know, let your girly long hair down like what's-her-name?" he asked.

"Rapunzel?"

"Yeah, whatever. How do you even know this stuff?"

"Sorry." Silent laughter rumbled deep in Sam's chest while he tried to sound apologetically and _failed_ big time.

"Can we just pretend I've been unconscious through everything and I will never ever remember this happening?" he asked miserably, letting his head sink against Sam's shoulder. "And while we're at it, let's also pretend I'm going to kill you if you'll ever mention it again."

"Never happened," Sam agreed. "You're still going on a burger-free diet though."

"Oh bitch please."

"Jerk."

His eyes might've slipped shut then because everything afterwards became kind of hazy and blurred. But when he woke up in the hospital the first thing he saw was Sam's worried face looming over him.

Dean groaned, feeling almost too miserable to be embarrassed. "Please tell me I just dreamed you carrying me down the stairs …"

Sam's blinding grin almost made it worth though.

Fin


End file.
